Pursuit of the Truth
by Forgotten Enlightenment
Summary: A SI is placed into the world of Harry Potter, eagerly willing to achieve the pinnacle of magic. Whether this is through deceitful manipulations, fanatical pursuits of knowledge, or through sheer will, Alexander King will undoubtedly become the best.
1. Unforeseen Circumstances

"Fascinating..." I whispered in genuine surprise and puzzlement as I observed my youthful features in the mirror, and heard my prepubescent voice once more. I spent a few more moments marveling before my mind was consumed once more by an urgent need for explanations. Could it be a lucid dream? Psychedelics, psychosis, or even a comatose state of mind?

The brainstorming eventually came to an end once my imagination drifted off into the realms of the supernatural. My inability to prove any of the hypothesis was also a major contributing factor which led to external explorations.

I tore myself from my reflections and walked throughout my unfamiliar surroundings. A cursory investigation soon revealed the identity of my current whereabouts. Noisy children, cliched matrons, faded walls, stormy grey weather, hushed conversations about an upcoming office block, a frigid atmosphere, and a sign that read - Wool's Orphanage - made it abundantly clear. But something about the signboard made me hesitate, as the barest bits of recognition flared.

Upon finally recognising the signboard, I swiftly returned to my quarters. Confusion turbulently swept through my mind as I reconsidered everything. I kept telling myself that it had to be a coincidence. I could not have de-aged, and been thrown into a work of fiction, right? But before I could delve more into the spiralling rabbit-hole of perplexion, my gaze fell upon the fabled magical letter, patiently resting upon my economical mattress. My thoughts of incredulity quickly disappeared as I carefully opened and read it; multiple times as well to ensure no uncertainties.

"Dear Mr. King... pleased to inform you...accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall." I vocalised the letter as I reread it once more in severe disbelief.

On the backside, there was a list of provisions, and a message detailing date and time for a visit from a Hogwarts' faculty, to confirm my admission and to buy the required supplies.

Dazed and baffled, I stood there in silence for a few minutes. Either this was all a well-crafted prank, or I am honestly within the fictional world of Harry Potter. But upon further consideration, I was strangely leaning towards the latter rather than the former.

I expected the realisation to be more turbulent, but it was disconcertingly calming, followed by an acute rise of dopamine levels.

Merlin's Beard, the possibilities were infinite!

Superpowers, immortality, supremacy; anything and everything conceivable was now within the realm of possibility. Hence, after a minor deliberation, I had wholly decided to attend the prestigious institution; regardless of the danger, I was bound to face. Additionally, as an ardent fan, I did possess a bit of functional metaknowledge, which should hopefully prove useful to accelerate my growth. I unhesitatingly made the decision; after all, even the likelihood of neigh-absolute power corrupts neigh-absolutely.

The rest of the day passed without a second spared for socialisation - which drew the ire of a few residents - and instead focused on attempting accidental magic. Unfortunately, it seemed I did not possess the skill to materialise my whimsical desires yet. I briefly considered writing down all the details that I could recall, but later discarded the idea entirely after believing it to be too dangerous. Nevertheless, these activities had occupied my mind long enough - a day to be precise - until the exalted guest arrived.

"Mr. King." A tall, stern-looking witch, with an exceptionally bizarre hat and raven-black hair tied up in a bun, greeted me at the entrance of the room. Her voice commanded attention, but still retained hints of moderation, accompanied by a gentle smile. Her wizarding robes were equally odd, but most surprisingly, I could mysteriously tell she was different. Almost as if there were hidden depths to her. The sensations were vague and unusual, but they were promptly placed on the back holder as I greeted her back and initiated my plan.

"Hello, and good morning, Mrs. ?" I began and implored.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. I'm here to verify your willingness to become a student, gather your necessities for schooling, and answer some of your questions." She calmly answered.

"Thank you for coming, Professor! And please do take a seat." I readily thanked her. "I must admit I do have some lingering doubts regarding the invitation. Especially with regards to the existence of magic itself."

"Thank you, dear," McGonagall replied with a hint of amusement as she sat beside me; before beginning her practiced speech. "Now, I can very much assure you that magic is undeniably real. Allow me to demonstrate."

McGonagall then proceeded by grabbing a handful of air, which then somehow transformed into a shining ball that lay in her hand. Then she closed her fingers, after which the sphere dissipated completely.

"Have you seen something similar, Mr. King?" McGonagall spoke after her little demonstration. "Inexplicable phenomena that occurred when you were particularly emotional?"

I mindlessly nodded, but I was internally pondering on what I witnessed. Conjuration is a very advanced branch of magic, and seeing McGonagall perform it with such frightful ease was unexpected.

"You are a wizard, Mr. King," McGonagall stated with certainty, "and it is only at Hogwarts where we can teach you how to harness your powers in a controllable fashion. If you are to accept our invitation, you will formally be recognised as a member of the wizarding populace, and bound by the rules set forth by the Ministry of Magic."

"And if I were to reject?" I curiously intoned. "What happens then?"

"I would highly advise against it." McGonagall calmly responded. "An untrained Wizard is dangerous not only to themselves but also to others."

"Understandable." I externally agreed while internally pondered. I had no intention of disagreeing, of course, but based on her deflection and ominous undertones, the consequences of rejection would unarguably be perilous. Perhaps they would enforce memory charms? "I would wish to avoid injuring others as well."

"Excellent." McGonagall concurred before she flashed another hidden look of pity. "Hogwarts does have a funding scheme for those who require it. If acceptable, we can immediately continue and collect your essentials. If you have any questions, I would be delighted to answer them as we go."

With a cheerful grin of approval, I got up to leave. We walked outside and began our journey; towards the famously hidden domain of Diagon Alley.

Step one was successful, and I was now officially on the pathway to success. Knowledge awaited me, which in turn would result in potent sovereignty. And my only obstacle? Time. Maybe a bunch of fellow lunatics as well.


	2. Radical Ascension

The trip was enchanting and uneventful. We snuck through the Leaky Cauldron and a bunch of drunkards, before making it in front of the centralised shopping district. Lined with cobblestones, forking pathways, and ancient architecture, Diagon Alley positively lived up to my bubbling expectations. Crowds of eccentrically dressed individuals jostled and conversed. Merchants displayed their extravagant and exotic goods, including various clothing, flora and fauna, stationery shops, and supposedly arcane tomes.

Distant aromas of flavour and spices were also present, accompanied by the gentle gales of unrecognisable fumes. But above all, my senses were mostly preoccupied with the incredulous semblance of delirium and a strange dissonance. Subsequently, it receded, leaving a bit of understanding behind. The strain most likely emerged due to the ambient magic that unassumingly prevailed over the area.

McGonagall naturally allowed me a minute to gawk and admire; before leading me towards our first destination - Second-Hand Bookshop.

The shop was unconventionally large and filled with shelves of books and parchments. It was a surprising turn of events, but McGonagall hastily led us to the counter to collect my books. Upon acquiring them, I noticed the standard names, much to my delight. The absence of any variations was always a reason for celebrations; for universal consistency and academic purposes. We then ventured towards Second-Hand Robes. Fortunately, magically constructed clothing was more durable and comfortable, even if they were second-handed. But while the duller aspects of our shopping continued, I managed to acquire some more relevant information.

"Professor," I earnestly started, "would you mind answering a few questions?"

"Not at all, Mr. King." McGonagall clarified. "You have been quieter than I anticipated."

"I was doing a bit of thinking, actually," I smoothly remarked with a curious tone. "And I do have a few inquiries."

There were countless problems associated with the setting and worldbuilding of the Harry Potter saga varying from the impossible socio-economic handling, an abundance of dark creatures, to the absolute lack of innovation and advancements. Having the mystical world exist within a book was entirely plausible, but for it to function in reality was unarguably impossible. Hence, I began venturing my questions towards the field of society and various aspects regarding it. Unsurprisingly, the answers barely left me nonplussed.

There were several schools besides Hogwarts and a multi-million wizarding populace within the UK itself, but unfortunately, no industrial revolutions.

McGonagall probably noticed something suspicious when a mere adolescent started seeking such untypical data, though she showed no outward reactions except for a few raised brows. She probably chalked it up to either me being parentless and quirky or a little above the standard deviation.

"Now for the last part of our trip, Mr. King," McGonagall announced as we stood in front of our concluding objective, "you will be receiving your wand."

We had ultimately reached; after purchasing all the miscellaneous materials. It was time to own a personalised wonder-stick.

"Welcome to Ollivanders!" An aged but cheerful voice welcomed, as we stepped in.

Instantly, the throbbing sensation resurfaced, assaulting my senses again before it steadily subsided. Thousands of wands patiently waited before us, anticipating the arrival of their future partners. Earthen scents and an indistinct warmth prevailed, as the legendary wandmaker approached us.

"Ahh Professor, I hope your stiff, fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches wand is capable as always?" The eidetic artisan expressively recalled.

"It most certainly is, Mr. Ollivander." McGonagall tersely confirmed.

"Excellent!" He exclaimed before his eyes drew to mine. "And who might you be, young man? Here for your first wand?"

"Alexander, Sir." I hastily introduced. "And yes, I'm indeed here for it."

"Very well!" He enthused. "Arms out!"

What followed was an excessively enthusiastic session of measurements and non-specific questioning.

After an anticlimactic inquiry about my third favourite alphabet, he began handing out his prized possessions. I traded a few before I found my soulmate.

"Here, try this." Ollivander tirelessly presented. "Fourteen and a half inches, unbending Aspen with dragon heartstring."

Upon grasping it, I nearly recoiled. An overwhelming barrage of relentless potential flowed and circulated within me. An esoteric bond forged itself, seemingly intertwining our fates together. I twirled the arcane weapon, and keenly took it all in. It was simply divine.

The feelings were so stupendous that the rest of the day blurred into nothingness. All I remembered was McGonagall dropping me back, and passing me my stuff along with the timings to head to King's Cross station.

I was irrevocably enamoured, or possibly addicted. Nonetheless, I would soon begin my descent into the cesspool that was the syllabus and curriculum of first years, aided by my miracle-rod, Tiamat.

Step two was successful, and I was now officially a potential defier of the natural order. Soon, I will be capable of bending the laws of thermodynamics, feasibly creating infinite energy, and expand the very horizons themselves. Dark Lord or not, I will either jumpstart a magical revolution or become another failure. Who knows? Maybe I might even remain an unnamed side character, or a delusional, overextending psycho.


End file.
